


yeah, well, i know you

by RainyForecast



Series: Unexpected Returns On Your Investment [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Braeden's Gran Is A BAMF, Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Oneshot, Post-Season/Series 04, Protect Derek Hale At All Costs, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/RainyForecast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a lot about Derek Hale she hadn't been prepared for. Oh, she thought she knew exactly what she was doing. Big, strong werewolf; hot, rough sex. Even the snarky flirting hadn't been a surprise. But there was so, so much about Derek Hale that she was completely unprepared for. And Braeden hated being caught unprepared.</p><p> </p><p>Beta'd well but good by rhien. Seriously, you should have seen this ficlet before she got ahold of it.</p><p>Title was something Braeden said to Derek in 04x03, and which she was very wrong about at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah, well, i know you

There was a lot about Derek Hale she hadn't been prepared for. Oh, she thought she knew exactly what she was doing. Big, strong werewolf; hot, rough sex. Even the snarky flirting hadn't been a surprise. But there was so, so much about Derek Hale that she was completely unprepared for. And Braeden hated being caught unprepared.

The first warning sign should have been way he kissed. Sure, he did the whole, pick-a-girl-up-and-kiss-her-against-a-wall thing, but punishing, biting kisses never happened. He liked it slow: nuzzling under her jaw and occasionally licking stripes up her neck in a way that made her go boneless. That was the first warning sign. The second was the spooning. She was used to men who rolled over and went to sleep after sex. And she preferred it that way, personally. Less messy. In fact, she didn’t mind at all if her hookup just started putting on his shoes and left right after. More room on the bed for her.

But Derek, apparently, didn't play by those rules. After they slept together, he seemed to want to actually _sleep_ together. He’d pull her up against his chest and sigh contentedly into her hair, and while Braeden prided herself on her unsentimental nature, even she didn't have the heart to shove him off and make him sleep on the couch. She also hadn’t expected coffee brought to her in bed, or the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her. She hadn't expected arms wrapped around her from behind as she stood at the table cleaning her gear, a kiss dropped softly on top of her head.

Derek Hale, she was coming to realize, was a damn fool. Was this how he’d always been—this ready to go soft and romantic over the first girl to flutter her eyelashes at him? And with bile rising in her throat, she realized that this unexpected gentle streak was what women like Kate and Jennifer had sniffed out and preyed upon. It made her see red to think about it. Deep scorching rage. Both of those bitches were lucky they were already dead, or she’d have made sure they suffered. But in the back of her mind, she was also angry with herself. What the hell had she gotten herself into? How had she made the terrible mistake of even considering the possibility of a casual fuck with Derek Hale? How had she let herself start to secretly enjoy returning to the loft between jobs?  Or heaven forbid, missing (missing!) Derek sleeping beside her when she was out on the road alone?

The last and final red flag appeared on a warm summer night. The windows of the loft had ensured the place had baked like a greenhouse all day, and opening every available window hadn't helped much. Their bodies glowed with sweat. Braeden had shoved Derek off away from her, banishing the hot-blooded werewolf to the other side of the bed. The humidity had only increased and now, about one in the morning, she was awake to hear thunder begin to rumble outside. She was sleepily hoping a thunderstorm would break the heat wave, when Derek whimpered in his sleep. When she turned to look at him, he was tightly curled into himself, and the wounded noises only continued. By the time his pained cries coalesced into actual words (mumbled names: “Laura,” “Boyd,” “Mom”), she’d had enough. She shook him awake and pulled his face into her chest and held him as he shook apart and summer lightning lit up the muggy night.

“You’re all right, baby,” she told him. “I’ve got you.”   _What_ , she thought.   _What the fuck have I gotten myself into._

 

***

She was still suffering under the self delusion that this situation with Derek was something that would be simple (painful, but simple) to end someday, when she missed her period. She’d had to leave on a long term job that had taken her all the way out to Louisiana. Two months in, she was sitting in a shabby Baton Rouge motel bathroom, staring in disbelief at the little plus sign on a pregnancy test. Never mind that they’d always used protection. The condom must not have held.   _How did I let this happen_ , she wondered in shock. It wasn’t the first time she’d had that particular thought in regard to Derek Hale. And it wouldn't be the last.

 

***

The first thing she did was shunt the Louisiana job off on someone else, then pack up the bike and head straight for Los Angeles.

 

***

Her grandmother lived in a dangerous neighborhood, on a dangerous street. All of the windows had iron bars on them, and graffiti bloomed violently on every available surface. All of the menacing knots of men and boys lingering on street corners and doorsteps knew better than to bother her or her grandmother, however. And if reputation hadn't protected her, the Glock strapped to her thigh in plain sight would have done it.

Her gran’s place hadn’t changed in the year or two since she’d last visited. There was still the handwritten sign advertising palm readings in the front window. The living room still smelled of incense and herbs, candles with saints on the glass guttering. And Gran scolded her for not calling enough. The thing that was different, however, was the bitter-tasting tea she handed her granddaughter. “Good for pregnancy,” she said, regarding Braeden with a level gaze. Braeden didn't ask how her gran knew. Gran just knew things. Gran’s mother had been a folk healer from Trinidad, and her father had been the son of an Oaxacan curandera. Magic and unexplainable knowledge ran in her blood. While Braeden preferred to deal with the supernatural from the other end of her shotgun, Gran could probably make a wendigo whimper with a look. Hence, the whole situation with Derek tumbled out of Braeden in an uncharacteristic rush of words. Gran let her talk, leaning back in her recliner and nodding slowly at one point or another. When Braeden’s rant finally petered out, Gran finally spoke. “I’d heard about the Hales. Terrible business. A horrible thing to happen to that poor boy. Good thing he has a strong woman who loves him now.” And Braeden’s stomach dropped.

“No, Gran, I, I don’t-“ but she couldn’t finish the sentence. Fuck. She did. She was in love with Derek Hale. Without pushing her, without forcing her to be someone she wasn’t, that sappy idiot had worked his way into the very core of her. And she was going to keep his baby.

 

***

She spent a week with Gran. She wrapped herself in the wildly colored throws Gran favored and let Gran feed her unpleasant tasting stews and tinctures.

“You will need to be strong,”  Gran told her, “To bear a werewolf child.” Braeden didn’t even bother asking how Gran was sure the baby would be a werewolf. She was a little sick in the mornings, but Gran had a tea that tamed the nausea. Derek called her cell at one point, and she didn’t even lie too much—telling him that she’s spending some time with her grandmother. He seemed delighted with the idea, and it highlighted painfully how little family he had left. She would like Gran to meet him someday, she decided. She began to let herself consider what the future might look like. It was a strange exercise. She was used to survival mode—never planning too far ahead, never imagining staying in one place too long. But now, she worked through the strange and unfamiliar process. Imagined the baby, tried to imagine what a blend of Derek’s pale Irish-Welsh genes and her melting pot ancestry would look like. At any rate, the baby would have black, black hair. She found herself hoping for hazel eyes.

 

***

Gran eventually kicked her out, telling her that she needed to get her ass back up to NorCal and tell Derek about the baby. She felt unaccountably nervous, but agreed. The road to Beacon Hills felt both endlessly long and disconcertingly short.

Derek, of course, probably heard the rumble of her bike long before she pulled up in front of his building. By the time she’d dismounted and had begun to rummage through the saddle bags, he was standing at the door. Braeden thought she could be excused for mentally comparing him to a well-trained dog who’d been left alone all day. He was practically vibrating, and she knew he was dying to sweep her up and hold on to her, but when she’d left for Louisiana she’d still been standoffish about demonstrative gestures like that. But now, his eyes were wide, and soft, and everything he felt for her was splashed plain as day across his face. She left her gear alone and opened her hands in permission. He literally leapt down the steps (stupid, show off werewolves) and scooped her up into his arms, burying his nose in her neck to scent her with a noise that was not quite a whine.

She felt the moment he caught the change in her scent. He went still. His arms slowly loosened, just enough for her feet to touch the ground. But he kept them around her, and his face remained buried in her hair as he whispered, brokenly, “Braeden? Are—is—“

“I’m due in 6 months,” she answered. Her hands fisted nervously into his henley, in spite of herself. “My gran is pretty sure it’s a girl. She knows these kinds of things.”

Derek’s only answer was a sob, and his arms tightening even more around her body. Braeden felt a curious kind of lightness flood her. _It’s good_ , she thought. _It’s good._

 

 


End file.
